Hair to Dye for
by PanicAt221B-NoReally
Summary: A naturally blonde, teenage Sherlock Holmes invites best friend John Watson round to help him dye his hair to piss off his parents. That's what John thought the plan was anyway.


**A/N: I've been wanting to write some Johnlock since I first started reading fanfiction and I've finally gotten something I'm happy to publish. Based around the idea of doing something bad to make something else seem less negative.**

* * *

"Your parent's are in," John stated as he entered Sherlock's bedroom, dropping his school bag on the floor.

"Unfortunately," Sherlock replied, opening his eyes and looking at John from where he had been lain on his bed; his long body on top of the covers, his spindly fingers in an almost prayer under his chin. It was a sight John was very familiar with at this point.

"Your Mother opened the door," John said, sitting on the edge of Sherlock's bed, "I forgot how intimidating she is."

"She does have that affect," Sherlock added, sitting up, swinging his legs round to be next to John, with no consideration for personal space as per usual. His blonde hair stuck up lightly at the back from the way he had been laying and John had to resist the urge to run his fingers through it to smooth it down.

He shook that thought away quickly.

"Heard you got into a fight with Matt," John started, deciding to change this dangerous train of thought. He looked at the bruises on Sherlock's forearm uncovered by the rolled up sleeves of his school uniform and felt an underlying anger towards the boy who had hurt Sherlock.

"I told him his girlfriend's gay," Sherlock stated.

"Jenny's gay?" John asked in shock, forgetting his temporary anger, wondering how Sherlock had managed to deduce that little fact.

"I informed you yesterday in Physics," Sherlock replied, eyebrows furrowed.

"I wasn't in Physics yesterday," John sighed, slightly exasperated, yet somehow not surprised.

"That's hardly my fault," Sherlock nonchalantly said. John decided not to argue this point. He knew when to pick his battles.

There was a moment of silence between them.

"So..." John started, awkwardly, already regretting speaking.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, encouraging John to continue, silently.

"... I got your text..."

"I can see that," Sherlock answered back, a gleam of mirth in his eyes and a hint of a smile on his lips. To anybody else his face may have looked plain, but John had learned to pick up on some of Sherlock's more subtle facial expressions long ago.

"Shut up" John replied, laughing, as Sherlock's face broke out into a full blown smile. It was something he didn't get to see often enough.

After John's laughter had subsided, he continued, "What's the emergency?"

Suddenly, Sherlock's face darkened, looking completely serious again. John was filled with worry and the need to protect Sherlock became his first priority.

"They confiscated my microscope," Sherlock spoke, in a most serious manner. John let out a sigh of relief he didn't realise he has been holding in. He thought Sherlock was fantastic, (even though he was a massive cock sometimes,) but he really did have a flare for the overdramatic. John didn't need to ask who 'they' were.

He considered telling Sherlock that to most people, himself included, a confiscated microscope didn't really class as an emergency but decided that he really could not be bothered arguing with the other boy. Instead saying "Why?"

"Apparently it's 'unsanitary' to keep a foot in the fridge."

John decided he didn't want anymore details. How and why Sherlock had acquired a human foot was not something he really wanted to discuss.

Looking away from Sherlock, as to not show revulsion at the thought of the foot, his eyes landed on a box on the bedside table.

"What's that?" John asked quickly, his eyes widening, ideas of all the weird shit Sherlock might want to do filling his brain. You could never tell with Sherlock, a simple object could become a serious hazard within minutes of entering his presence. He was suddenly reminded of the time the other boy had used a spinning cake stand as an elevated platform for his light magnifying device, and set fire to the headmaster's toupee. He really did not want to repeat that experience.

Sherlock just rolled his eyes in response.

"Why do you have that?" John carried on, staring at the box of black hair dye on the bedside table.

"Why do you think, John?" Sherlock said, sounding exasperated and it clicked in John's mind. He felt relief, apprehension and a building excitement all at the same time.

"Are you allowed?" John smiled slightly, knowing the answer that would follow.

"Not really," Sherlock smirked, glad that John had caught up.

"Didn't think you would be," John said the initial surprise leaving him, grinning back.

Ten minutes later, John stood behind a seated Sherlock in the bathroom, finally feeling some doubt over what the other boy wanted him to do.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" John asked, with a bowl of black dye in one hand and an applicator brush in the other, making eye contact with Sherlock in the large mirror above the sink they were infront of.

"John, I would not have asked you if I were not sure," Sherlock condescendingly replied.

"Ok," John said, still sounding uncertain. With one last moment of eye contact between the two, John scooped up some dye using the brush and began to apply it to Sherlock's naturally blonde hair.

Sherlock closed his eye's looking relaxed and John took this moment to study his face. He never really got the chance to look at him like this, all calm and peaceful looking. He almost go lost in a reverie, until Sherlock made a disgruntled noise at the cold dye now being applied to his left ear.

* * *

"Out," Sherlock said after john had applied the last section of dye.

"What?" John replied, looking confused.

"You heard me," Sherlock said, sternly.

"But what about-"

"I can sort it myself," Sherlock cut him off.

"But what if you-"

"Don't worry I won't leave it in too long."

"But-"

"Just go and read a book for 20 minutes," Sherlock told him, beginning to push John out of the room.

"I-"

"And go and put our bags by the front door."

"I'm not your-"

"You'll thank me later."

"I highly doubt-"

And all of a sudden John stood outside the bathroom door as it was slammed shut in his face. He froze for a moment, not sure what had just happened.

He made his way back to Sherlock's room, a little confused, but putting their school bags and blazers by the front door as Sherlock had asked.

He then returned and sat outside the bathroom door, tapping his finger on his outstretched legs.

He looked around the corridor, taking it in properly for the first time.

Although him and Sherlock had been friends for many years, he had never really given the space much thought. It was just a corridor after all, but still.

On the left hand side of the bathroom door hung a photograph John had never seen before. It depicted child Sherlock dressed up as a pirate being chased by a much younger version of Mycroft, a huge grins on both boys faces.

John had only met Mycroft once about a year ago. He introduced himself to John before shaking his hand and then giving Sherlock a knowing look. Sherlock had blushed and they had never spoken about the encounter since.

The rest of the corridor was pretty empty apart from a few abstract paintings, probably worth more than John's whole house.

The Holmes family had lived here for many years and yet every part of the building, bar Sherlock's room, looked like part of a show house. Sherlock seemed so incongruous here, like a spec of mud on "Mummy Holmes'" brand new carpet. The boy's parents were never in. They were either on business trips or holidays and Mycroft had left home years ago so it was just Sherlock at home most of the time.

 _It must be lonely,_ John thought, contemplating silently.

 _Yet he isn't really lonely,_ John mentally added, _he has me. He will always have me,_ and at that exact second the bathroom door swung open and John jumped up in shock. It was as if he had suddenly forgotten how to talk; his mouth dropped open.

"Wow," he finally managed, taking in the tall, dark figure in front of him.

"Do you know you said that out loud?" Sherlock smiled, knowingly.

"Sorry. I didn't-"

"No. It's fine," Sherlock interrupted, looking genuine.

John just continued to stare, watching as each individual strand fell on his forehead. At this movement, all he wanted to do was put up his hand and touch it. How could colour change so much?

"John?"

"Yeah," he replied tearing his gaze away from Sherlock's hair and looking at him in the eyes.

"You can stop staring at my hair now."

"Oh. R-right. Okay," John stammered slightly, blushing.

He wasn't sure what had come over him, he just couldn't help himself from staring and now he was getting all embarrassed over nothing. John felt very confused.

They stood there in silence for a further few seconds, John unable to lift his head and make eye contact, when all of a sudden he felt gentle fingers slide under his chin. His head was slowly lifted and his eyes now met with Sherlock's. They were stood a lot closer than before and his breath caught in his throat. The now onyx haired boy just gave him a dirty smile, leaning in slightly and breathing hot breath onto his lips, before grabbing John's hand, pulling him down the corridor. If John's blush could of deepened then it would.

"Where-"

"You'll see," Sherlock said as he began to pull John down the staircase.

John was surprised as they stood outside the sitting room door, feeling apprehension build inside of him. Sherlock dropped his hand and John felt something like disappointment. The taller boy then pushed the door open, standing in the doorway defiantly.

"Mummy, Daddy..." Sherlock smiled, as his parents looked up from their half-read newspapers, open mouthed, "Do you like it?"

There was a moments silence before Sherlock spoke again and the tension was palpable.

"Oh, and before you can say anything unnecessary," he paused, glancing for a second at John, "I'm also gay" and he lent down and pulled John into a fierce kiss.

John was in so much shock he could barely move.

"Sherlock Holmes! How dare you-"

"No. I don't care" he said as he pulled John of out the room by his hand.

John's mind was racing, but before he could realise what had happened, Sherlock picked up both their bags and they ran out of the front door, slamming it behind them.

* * *

Sherlock was gay. Sherlock had kissed _him_.

He couldn't comprehend it.

He had thought for a while now that he was a little bi curious but he had no idea how he felt about Sherlock.

And then he was taken back through all the moments they had shared. All the times they had laughed together. All the times Sherlock had amazed and surprised him in the best possible way. All the times Sherlock had made him feel special.

How he often cooked for Sherlock to make sure he was eating properly. How John always had to shut him up before he offended half the school. How he couldn't understand how nobody appreciated him the way John does.

And then he realised that maybe he did like him. Maybe he had liked him all along, from the very first day, and he just couldn't see it.

"Fantastic" Sherlock laughed as they slowed down a few streets away, still holding his hand. "You can close your mouth now, John," He beamed, turning to look at the still shocked boy.

"You kissed me," was all John could get out.

"Fantastic deduction, John. Glad to see you've been taking notes," Sherlock teased.

"But-" John looked around as if finally becoming aware of his surroundings, "Where are we going?"

"To your house." Sherlock stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "I need to stay away from home for a bit. Keep up, John."

All of a sudden, John froze, pulling the enigma of a boy round to face him, dropping the hand in his. The grin disappeared from Sherlock's face and was replaced with something more genuine. John waited for him to speak.

"Look," Sherlock started, eyes flitting away from John, "You like me and I thought it was quite apparent your feelings were reciprocated."

"So, you really like me?" John asked, still sounding unsure.

"Yes," Sherlock firmly reiterated.

"And the um-" he gulped, making an odd hand gesture, "wasn't just for show? To annoy your parent?"

"No and No."

"Then," he hesitated, it was now or never, "will you be my boyfriend?"

"Well, I thought that was pretty obvi-"

"Oh, shut up," John said, blushing but grabbing one of Sherlock's hands and entwining their fingers with his own all the same.

They strolled back to John's, enjoying the company of one another and the warmness of each other's hands. John never planned for their friendship to change and end up here and he had no idea what the future held but he found that he didn't care. This felt right. John and Sherlock were a couple, and he wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
